


Vorfreude (Part 4)

by pressedinthepages



Series: Vorfreude [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Hiccups, Childbirth, F/M, Fluff, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), eskel saves the day, oh shit we have a kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages
Summary: As the end of a long pregnancy nears, a few new faces find their way to your home.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Series: Vorfreude [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832521
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	Vorfreude (Part 4)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my goodness, this little series has gotten to be so much more than what I thought it would be! So many of you sent me wonderful ideas for this chapter, and I hope that I tied it all together with my own little twist nicely :)
> 
> Also, the song/poem that Jaskier sings is an excerpt from "On the Beach at Night" by Walt Whitman.

“ _ Oh, dear Gods…”  _ you groan quietly, running your hands over your belly. Everything is swollen and sensitive; your stomach, your ankles, your fingers,  _ hells,  _ even your elbows don’t feel quite right. You are laying on the bed, one pillow shoved between your legs and another under your back, trying to finagle a way to get comfortable. You may have finally found it, settling down gently into the comfort of your bed and letting your eyelids drift slowly closed.

And then...the baby hiccups.

Your eyes shoot open, suddenly wide awake once more as your stomach jumps and churns. You sigh, sitting up and propping the pillows against the headboard behind you. “Hmm, you poor thing,” you hum, rubbing little circles over your belly in an attempt to soothe the child. You call quietly for your husband and he comes bounding into the room, his chemise hanging off his shoulder and hair all disheveled.

“Everything all right, my dear?” Jaskier’s eyes, previously filled with worry and unhinged anxiety, visibly calm at the sight of you, relatively comfortable and healthy.

“Baby has the hiccups, love.”

Jaskier hums sympathetically, moving to sit next to you at the edge of the bed. His hand joins yours on your stomach, resting lightly over where the baby jumps. “Is there anything I can get to help?” 

You shake your head with a sigh, resigned to spending the rest of your days as a human punching bag. “We’ll be alright, but would you stay and lay with me?” 

Jaskier smiles, still as vibrant and bright as the sun, shifting to rest at your side. You lay back down as well, Jaskier’s head resting on your chest. He begins to sing softly, shocking no one, his hand resuming the careful circles over your belly. You let his voice soothe you as well, but you recognize the song as the one that he has been working on for your child.

_ On the beach at night, _

_ Stands a child with her father, _

_ Watching the east, the autumn sky. _

_ Up through the darkness, _

_ While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black masses spreading, _

_ Lower sullen and fast athwart and down the sky, _

_ Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east, _

_ Ascends large and calm the lord-star Jupiter, _

_ And nigh at hand, only a very little above, _

_ Swim the delicate sisters the Pleiades…  _

The baby has settled, allowing you to finally do the same. As Jaskier finishes singing his hand drifts further down, kissing your tender breast as he moves. 

“You know,” his hand trails up the inside of your thigh, “I’ve heard of a way that we might be able to speed things along…”

“If you touch me right now Jaskier, so help me Gods you will not live to see the morning.”

“Fair enough.”

* * *

The leaves have turned vibrant shades of red and orange, the eyes of the multiple Witchers around you blending right in. Apparently, Ciri had begun to turn a bit stir-crazy being stuck in Kaer Morhen for the past year, driving all of them more than a little mad. Finally, Geralt had relented to her ceaseless pestering for a change of scenery-on one condition. Yennefer, Eskel, and Lambert would join them. 

They had all shown up at your little cottage a few days ago, having sent a letter with Yennefer’s familiar the evening prior. Upon your acceptance of their visit, Yennefer had opened a portal in the woods nearby and a veritable stream of mountainous men stormed through, followed by the palpable energy that both Ciri and Yennefer exude in their very bones. 

“Oh, you are just going to  _ adore  _ them, my love. These men, no no, these  _ magnificent heroes,  _ they are just so wonderful and inspiring! Well, Lambert can be a bit of an ass, but can’t we all sometimes?” Jaskier wrapped his arm around your waist as he prattled on, the two of you having perched yourselves right outside of your little home.

All at once, you saw a blur of bright color and shiny silver hair burst from the treeline and sprint towards you. Jaskier laughed, stepping forward to catch the young woman in his arms. Ciri squealed in delight as Jaskier picked her up and swung her around as if she weighed little more than a toddler. “Jaskier, oh how I’ve missed you!”

You watched the rest of her entourage emerge from the cover of the forest, curious of these people that have claimed this young woman as their family. Geralt stepped out first, a stunning woman with dark black hair at his side. He looked infinitely more at ease than you had seen him in some time, and the woman moved with such grace and confidence that you had found yourself almost compelled to follow her every word. 

As introductions were made for Yennefer you crooked an eyebrow at Geralt, wordlessly inquiring about the others. He grumbled, turning back to look where the gaps in the trees were swallowed by darkness. “They said that they didn’t want to intrude.”

You scoffed, walking (more like waddling, in your extremely pregnant state,) to the very edge of the woods. “You would not offend a woman so much as to refuse her hospitality, would you?”

You heard some brief scuffling, followed by the sound of someone getting cuffed on the back of the head. “Shut the hell up, if you want to stay out here in the fucking woods that’s your business, I’m gonna go get warm.”

A figure stepped out from the darkness, imposing with a cocksure swagger to his stride. He had a broad chest and a trim waist with the telltale pair of swords peeking out from behind his shoulder. His hair was dark and slicked back, his eyes the color of a light golden ale. A long, sharp scar cut through his right eye and down onto his cheek, two shorter ones accompanying it on either side. 

“No, Lambert,  _ wait,  _ we shouldn’t-” Another man burst from the darkness, taller and broader than the other. He was  _ large,  _ about the same build as Geralt. He too had double swords strewn across his back, and his armor was dotted with studs and other pointy things that you had no doubt had protected him numerous times. His hair, lighter than Lambert’s, was floppy and hung just below his ears, and his eyes shone with a dark amber that was amplified in the light from the rising sun. He grimaced as he approached Lambert, a nasty scar over the expanse of his cheek pulling the corner of his lip in a gruesome fashion. 

You knew that these two men could be very frightening to the wrong kinds of people, and would fiercely protect those that they love. Geralt had been easy enough to read, you just had to show him that you weren’t scared of him and wouldn’t walk on eggshells around him. You figured these two would be the same. 

As they approached you had stood your ground, putting your hands on your hips and taking up as much room in the atmosphere as you could. Your belly jutted out, very obviously with child, and the two men looked you up and down before the second man moved to pull Lambert back into the cover of the forest. 

“Ah, ah, no.” Your voice rang through the silence, both men freezing and looking back at you. “This is  _ my  _ home, I get to say whether or not my guests are intruding. I will not have you out here, freezing your bollocks off in the woods behind my home just because you would be so stubborn. Come.”

You turned and strode (again, waddled,) back to the house without a second glance behind you. You knew that they were following though, Jaskier nodding triumphantly before beckoning you all inside to a warm breakfast and a rest by the fire. 

Now, as you sit and sort through the various herbs and other plants for the evening’s meal that you have all been in the forest collecting, you cannot ignore the feeling of something... _ off  _ in your belly. However, you’ve been feeling some form or another of  _ off  _ for the past nine months, so you chalk it up to just another twinge of your pregnancy. 

Ciri comes to sit at your side, passing you a generous handful of creeping thyme. “Thank you, Princess.”

“You know,” she murmurs, only barely loud enough for the Witchers to hear from where they are spread nearby, “you and Jaskier are the only people left who call me that.”

Her voice still has that strong, regal ring to it, but now it is tinged with an air of sadness and your heart breaks for her. You wrap your arm around her and pull her close, holding her against your shoulder. You would be more than happy to just sit and stay here for a while, letting yourself bask in the warm afternoon sun that peeks through the treetops.

Your baby, though, apparently has other plans. 

Suddenly, you feel a warm wetness spread from your core. Just as that registers in your brain your body is wracked with pain as the most intense cramping you’ve ever felt burns through your entire abdomen and around your back. You cannot help the gasp that escapes your lips, gritting your teeth and pinching your eyes shut in an effort to quell the pain. 

Ciri shoots up, calling out for help. Everyone comes running, all of the Witchers with a sword drawn, Yennefer with energy crackling from her fingertips, and Jaskier (bless him) with his precious lute brandished like a club. You try to bring your knees up to your chest to curl away from the intensity, but nothing helps. Jaskier is immediately at your side, his hands everywhere as he tries to figure out how to help you.

You can hear Ciri using her regal voice, commanding with just her tone. “She is in childbirth, we need to get her back to the cottage. Yennefer, can you make a portal back there?”

The mage nods, walking a few steps away and thrusting her arms open, a circle of energy opening in the air and leaving a void in the center. Geralt groans, sheathing his sword and running his hand down his face. 

The pain subsides as quickly as it came, leaving you breathless in relief. You moan, tight and pinched as you think of what is to come. “Can you stand, my love?” Jaskier asks, his bright blue eyes shining with anxiety.

You nod, moving to push yourself off the ground. Geralt moves to your side, fitting himself under one of your arms as Jaskier does the same. The two of them support you as you approach the portal, bracing yourself for the yanking force of the magic. 

* * *

Your screams ring through the darkness, only broken by the latent crackling of the fire. Your body quakes with the near constant cramping, only a brief reprieve every few minutes. Jaskier sits at your side, your hand in his, and Ciri rests at the foot of the bed, somewhat unsure of how to help. Apparently, the healer has ironically fallen ill, leaving you all to your own devices. As another wave of pain washes away for a moment, Eskel peeks his head through the doorway.

“I uh-everything going alright in here?” 

You swear, falling back into the pillows as Jaskier dabs your forehead with a towel damp with cool water. Ciri tells him that while she can tell that you’re well on your way to delivery, she has no veritable idea of what to do to help you. Eskel nods, coming into the room to kneel at your side. He looks up at you, something intense and forlorn behind those striking irises. 

“I can-I may be able to help.” You blink at him, your chest heaving with every breath that you take. “I’ve assisted with the animals when they would have babies back at Kaer Morhen, and I was actually with a healer when she helped a woman in childbirth too. It’s been a while, but it’s better than nothing…”

You nod, taking his hand in yours and gripping tightly. “Thank you, Eskel. That would be greatly appreciated.”

Fire licks along your skin as a new surge of pain burns through you. Eskel moves to kneel on the bed, resting his hand on your leg before Jaskier speaks up at your side.

“Are you sure, love? I mean, he’s going to  _ see  _ everything…” His voice trails off as you glare at him with the cool intensity of a thousand suns. “No, no you’re right, I’m sorry.”

Eskel’s voice is low and strangely soothing as he gives direction without a waver of room for debate, “Jask, go sit behind her and support her weight. Ciri, could you please grab a fresh bowl of warm water from the fireplace?” 

You can feel Jaskier’s heart beating frantically against his chest where he sits at your back, his arms wrapping around your chest in a sweet embrace as his nose finds the crook of your neck. You sag into him, falling limp with exhaustion before the next bout of pain breaks through you.

* * *

The next few hours pass by in a blur, filled with sweat and tears and screams. Jaskier croons lightly in your ear, helping you drink water and doing everything that he can to assist. Eskel is a welcome presence in the room, a sanctuary of rational thought in the whirlwind of chaos that your mind threatens to spill. 

Pressure in your abdomen builds and builds as Eskel instructs you to push, every muscle in your body tight and straining with each passing moment. Your nails dig into Jaskier’s thighs as you give one final shout, a sudden release of pressure following. You close your eyes as Jaskier holds you tight to his chest, neither of you daring to breath and break the fragile silence in the room. 

And then, the baby cries. They cry, and you sigh and sob in the same breath. You can feel Jaskier’s tears on your shoulder as Eskel wraps a clean cloth around the child, bringing them up to lay atop your stomach. 

Eskel smiles, the scar along his cheek endearing with the gentle expression. “Welcome to the world, young lady.”

You know that there is still much to be done to care for your newborn daughter, but you are content to stay in this moment for a while longer, with Jaskier’s arms around you and your daughter resting against your body. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading :) you can find me on tumblr @pressedinthepages


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